


Be Careful What You Wish For

by LacrimaDraconis



Series: Unconnected Holiday Fics [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Did I Mention Fluff, Fairies, Fluff, Getting Together, Holidays, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Well not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacrimaDraconis/pseuds/LacrimaDraconis
Summary: Stiles puts up a fairy door for fun, but somehow he and Derek end up in a cozy little cottage in the Colorado mountains.  They might have to decorate a Christmas tree and bake cookies together in order to get back to Beacon Hills.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jacobjallen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacobjallen/gifts).



> I think the tooth-fairy would be appalled :D

*** NOW ***

 

“What do you mean, we’re in Colorado, Scott? We can’t be in Colorado.”

Stiles realizes his voice sounds frantic, even to his own ears. Right this moment though? He doesn’t give a damn. Throwing Derek a sideways look he sees an expression he’s not sure how to interpret. While Derek doesn’t appear too fazed, he obviously isn’t thrilled about their whole situation either. Stiles understands.

“Well,” Scott interrupts his inner thought process, “we had Danny track both yours and Derek’s cell phones, and you’re somewhere in the mountains, somewhere in Colorado. The area seems quite… rural.”

“Rural as in…?”

“As in the next town is about ten miles away.”

Stiles can basically hear Scott flinching on the other end. “Great, just great,” he murmurs, “Any news yet on how the hell we got here?”

“Yeah, kind of.” For Stiles’ liking, Scott sounds way too hesitant to elaborate. “Hang on a second, I’m going to put you guys on speaker. Deaton explains this much better than I can, I guess.”

The prospect of the shady, mysterious vet explaining things doesn’t do much to lift his spirits. Judging from the thin line of Derek’s mouth they agree on this at least.

“Stiles? Derek?” Deaton’s voice comes through tinny over the phone, but from what they have heard so far, Stiles’ guesses they should be happy to have any reception at all.

“Yes Doc, we’re here,” he answers placing his cell phone on the kitchen counter between Derek and himself.

“So,” Deaton begins, “about that fairy door you bought, Stiles.”

 

*** AN HOUR BEFORE ***

 

“Why did you put that thing up on the wall, Stiles?”

Stiles doesn’t understand the incredulous looks his so called friends keep shooting him. “What? It’s decorative,” he exclaims.

“It’s… ugly.” Isaac chimes in pulling a face, and deep down Stiles has always known the guy was a butthole.

“It’s a fairy door. So the little tinkerbells can fly in and out and help Santa bring us gifts. It’s cute!”

“It’s definitely _something_ ,” Lydia throws in. “Pink, among other things.” According to the tone of her voice she doesn’t necessarily approve.

“Derek likes it,” Stiles replies, “he let me put it in his house.” He swears he isn’t getting defensive at all and decidedly ignores Isaac’s mutterings. “You like it, right Derek?” He turns towards Derek expectantly and watches the tips of his ears turn adorably pink.

“Uhm, I don’t _hate_ it?” Derek doesn’t seem convinced though and Stiles just gives up. “All of you are no fun. Whatever. It’s there now, it’ll stay.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to put up a fairy door in Beacon Hills? It’s not like we don’t have enough supernatural visitors around here already.”

It’s physically impossible for him to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Scotty my boy, I ordered this thing off the internet. It’s not real.”

Stiles looks over to Derek again, smirking at him in good camaraderie and his heart flutters as Derek just shrugs at Scott and gives Stiles a tiny answering smile. They stare at each other for a moment longer than probably appropriate and then, suddenly, everything around them turns black.

 

*** NOW ***

 

Turns out, as Deaton tells them, the fairy door is the real deal.

Stiles groans at Deaton’s words, rubbing a hand over his face in complete and utter disbelief. “What are you talking about ‘we wished ourselves here’? I most definitely didn’t wish myself to the Middle of Nowhere, Colorado, and for some reason I can’t imagine Derek doing that either.”

Derek is currently just staring at the wall opposite of the admittedly cozy kitchen-living room-combination of the cottage they obviously fucking apparated to. At his words he looks up to glare at Stiles instead, mouthing “Of course I fucking didn’t.” back at him.

“Both of you listen,” Deaton urges, “this kind of fairy folk isn’t malicious, they grant wishes. To people who stand in front of one of their doors and wish for something with a, and I quote, ‘pure intent of heart’. These fairies just tend to be somewhat… twisted about it.”

“And the twisted thing is that Derek had to come here as well?”

“No Stiles, Derek is there with you because he must’ve wished for pretty much the same thing at the same time you did. So the fairies saw a connection between the two of you and merged both of your wishes into one outcome. Just keep in mind this happened with no evil intent, just a little mischief.”

“Awesome. So what now?” Derek obviously isn’t happy about this at all. Neither is Stiles, for the record.

“Don’t worry, it probably won’t take longer than three days for you to find out what to do. There are usually a few tasks or a quest people have to fulfill. When it’s done the fairies will send you back home immediately.”

“Three days? No. I don’t want to be here for longer than three hours. Get us out of here, Deaton.”

Stiles can feel his own face sour even more than before. Contrary to Derek though, it’s not due to the prospect of spending three days with Derek in quite close proximity. The thought that Derek wants to get out of this so desperately stings more than he’d like to admit and before he can stop himself, Stiles snaps.

“Yeah, because the company’s so great.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Derek presses out through gritted teeth. “I was talking about the fact that we got transported here by some weird fairy magic we don’t know anything about. So please pardon my reluctance to ecstatically celebrate.”

The silence between them stretches and stretches until it begins to get uncomfortable, and when Deaton awkwardly clears his throat to continue speaking, Stiles is for once thankful for it.

“Well boys, there’s nothing you can do about your situation but get to your tasks. I’m sure you will recognize them as you see them. It might also help you along, if you figured out, what you both wished for. And Stiles, Derek? Enjoy yourselves and keep in mind that the fairies only wish you well.”

Afterwards there’s only the click of Deaton disconnecting the call.

“Well, that was helpful!” Stiles sighs turning around to face Derek. “We got more info than ever before though. I think,” he adds as an afterthought.

Derek snorts and, taking a look around the room, asks “What now?”

“We should probably find out what the fairies want us to do, right? Fulfill our tasks? Finish our quest for the fairy grail? Man, quest sounds so much cooler than tasks, don’t you think. Much cooler and more adventurous.” When he looks over to Derek he finds him shaking his head at him, a little exasperated but smiling. If he thinks about it, it might be one of Derek’s most common expressions regarding Stiles.

“Didn’t you have, like, enough adventures over the past couple of years?”

Stiles just hums and decides to ignore the werewolf to grab his biceps and stir him out of the kitchen instead. ”Let’s take a look around.” Derek goes willingly.

 

Hardly ten minutes later they’re already back to where they started, because it turns out there isn’t incredibly much to explore about the place. Besides the living room area and open kitchen there are a bathroom and a single bedroom. The latter comes with a full-size-bed that still seems too small to even fit Derek in it.

“Guess I’ll take the couch then,” Stiles had said because he can be a gentleman if he wants to, but Derek had just waved him off with a casual “Don’t worry about it.”

Which of course means that Stiles now worries about it, not sure if Derek implied he would take the couch instead or that they could share the bed or if he doesn’t intend to sleep at all. At least there’s enough food in their kitchen as the fairies seem to have stored enough in the cupboards and fridge to last a whole army. Or a pack of teenaged werewolves.

“What do you reckon our first task could be?” Stiles asks, not recognizing any differences in the room. As if on cue there’s a sudden “plop” sound followed by a cloud of sparkling glitter. It slowly trickles down to the floor, only to reveal to Christmas stockings hanging right over the fireplace. There’s a green one labeled ‘Derek’ and a red one labeled ‘Stiles’.

Stiles immediately darts over to take a look at his, excitedly clapping his hands in glee. Of course Derek has to ruin his fun by grabbing his arm and holding him back.

“Careful, Stiles. We don’t know if any of this is dangerous. The glitter might be laced with something.”

And while Stiles definitely gets where Derek is coming from, he for once wants to trust Deaton’s judgement and just do this. “Derek darling, I appreciate the concern, but Deaton said first, the fairies aren’t malicious and second, we need to do what they want us to do to get out of here anyway.” He bites his bottom lip, anxiously waiting for Derek’s response because, well, they’re in this together and if Derek doesn’t want to play, who knows when they’d get back home. He watches Derek study him for a moment before nodding once. “Okay,” he whispers, letting go of Stiles’ arm slowly.

Stiles grins at him, already turning around to finally see what kind of surprise the Christmas stocking holds. A moment later he pulls out Christmas lights, a whole net of them, and holds them towards Derek.

“You think I should talk to these, see if I reach Scott through them?”

To his surprise Derek snorts before replying. “As long as you don’t consider Scott your missing son, I think we’re good communicating with our cell phones. Also, aren’t those called fairy lights?” Stiles just stares at him and he can feel his heart flutter as he watches Derek’s cheeks turn slightly red beneath his stubble.

“What?” Derek snarks, albeit a little defensively, “I watch TV.”

Stiles can’t resist to reach out and gently pat Derek on the shoulder. “Babe, I’m so proud of you.” Expectedly, Derek just rolls his eyes. “What else is in there?”

His attention back to his stocking, Stiles pulls out three little cardboard boxes, all of them appearing old and dusty. He carefully opens one of them. “Wow, these are beautiful,” he gasps, holding up a delicate looking Christmas tree decoration, a tiny glass bell that makes lovely tinkling sound when he lifts it out of its box. “They really are.“ Derek confirms crowding in on Stiles to reach into the box as well. He gently places one of the ornaments in his hands, holding it out for Stiles to look.

“These remind me of the decorations my family used to put up for the holidays. We were pretty old school about Christmas, except for the one Disney ornament Cora was allowed to put on the tree every year.”

There’s a smile playing on Derek’s lips and when his gaze meets Stiles’ again, Stiles cannot help thinking how breathtakingly beautiful he looks, illuminated by the softly glowing lights and sharing a memory of his past, of his family with Stiles. He feels an answering smile spread over his own features and for a moment the air is heavy between them. Awkwardly clearing his throat, Stiles takes a step backwards and gestures towards Derek’s stocking, which still hangs over the fireplace untouched.

A few seconds later he is almost rolling on the floor with laughter. “Oh my God, these fairies are fucking brilliant. This is the best thing ever.” He points at Derek, who - with the most constipated expression Stiles has ever seen on his face – is now holding an axe. When Stiles doesn’t stop laughing his look slowly turns murderous. “Whoa dude, easy there. I know you’ve got the whole serial killer _look_ down, but don’t get started on behaving like one now.”

Derek pulls a face at him. “Haha, you’re not even remotely funny.”

“Aw come on, I’m hilarious. Seriously though, what are you supposed to with an axe? Except murder me, if I keep, like, annoying you. I always figured you’d just rip my throat out. With your teeth.”

“Hmmm,” Derek hums, weighing the axe in his hands, “let me think. We have a net of fairy lights, Christmas tree decorations and,” he gasps exaggeratedly, “no tree. I guess my task is to cut down a Christmas tree for us.”

“Ooooh,” Stiles says. “That makes sense.”

“You think?” Derek utters, sarcastically so, and Stiles once again wonders when Derek developed a sense of humor.

“Awesome, let’s go find a tree then. I’m thinking a Douglas fir, they smell nice.”

“Sometimes I just don’t get how your brain works.” Derek sighs audibly, but Stiles is prone to think it’s just an act.

“Me neither, buddy. Me neither.”

 

It strikes Stiles as weird a few minutes later that they hadn’t thought of taking a look outside of their little cottage before. When he mentions it to Derek, he agrees that it’s odd. “Fairy magic probably.” He shrugs in answer and they both just let it go. They follow a little path into the woods which leads them over a narrow creek and to a beautiful clearing. “Too bad there isn’t any snow. I bet it would be even nicer out here,” Stiles muses.

“Mh. Wouldn’t be too nice to have a tree full of snow dripping down into puddles of water in the living room.”

“Why are you like that, Derek? Let me just keep my thoughts of a romantic walk through a snowy forest, okay?”

Derek just grins and points towards a… Douglas fir. “That one romantic enough for you?”

 

Thanks to Derek’s werewolf strength Stiles doesn’t even have to help one bit and only a couple of short minutes later, Derek is pulling the tree back into the direction of their cottage.

“I know I mentioned a serial killer look earlier and I realize you’re probably not even into plaid, but dude, you definitely have the whole lumberjack thing going for you.” Stiles leers at Derek and it’s not even just to banter. It might or might not be possible that Stiles imagines being that tree for a second or two.

“Shut up, Stiles,”

The words don’t have any heat in them though and, bumping Derek’s shoulder, Stiles starts walking back to their cabin.

 

Two hours later Stiles and Derek sit on the couch in the living room, both holding steaming mugs of chocolate that Derek had made while Stiles put up the lights and ornaments on the Christmas tree. It’s nice. The couch is comfy, the hot chocolate has the exact right amount of marshmallows on top and for once Stiles doesn’t even feel the need to fill the companionable silence between them with chatter. He watches Derek, who is currently reading a book he found on one of the kitchen shelves and seeing him in the cozy glow of the fairy lights, the view makes something in Stiles’ heart ache. He knows he has a thing for Derek, and it’s not a bad feeling at all, just something he doesn’t feel he could ever have. When Derek looks at him, head tipped to the side in a silent question, he simply smiles and cuddles closer into the couch as he watches the lights of the Christmas tree.

Stiles wakes up some time later and he’s alone on the couch, Derek presumably having gone to sleep in the bedroom. His feet get tangled in a blanket Derek must have thrown over him before he left and the gesture makes him smile. He sighs and lets his eyes fall closed, quickly drifting off to sleep again.

 

The next morning Stiles is just preparing toast and coffee when Derek comes into the living room looking adorably sleep ruffled and soft. “I take it you’re not a morning person?” he asks but Derek just yawns in answer and goes on to grab a pan from the cupboard, cracking a few eggs into it with a surprising routine. Sometimes Stiles forgets that Derek is a normal person, too.

Halfway through having finished breakfast, Derek seems to be awake enough to talk, eventually asking “What do you think our fairy task of the day will be?”

Before Stiles, having no clue whatsoever, gets to answer though, they hear that weird “plop” sound again which soon enough gets accompanied by another cloud of glitter that sparkles merrily over the fire place.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles squeaks, “I know what this is.” Pulling thick and heavy book out of his Christmas stocking, he immediately starts paging through it until he finds what he has been looking for. “My mom had this cookbook. Look Derek, cookie recipes! And it has ‘[Kolaczki](http://cookingtheglobe.com/polish-cream-cheese-cookies-kolaczki/)’ in it.”

Derek takes a step back so Stiles isn’t shoving the book completely against his nose and he also doesn’t have to go cross-eyed to be able to read it. “Sounds good.”

“They were my favorite Christmas treats as a kid. Mom used to make hundreds of them, I think. She always gave dad several cookie jars to take to the station whenever he had to work throughout the holidays. Everyone loved them.”

“Do you know how to make them?” Derek asks.

“Nah, not really. Neither Dad nor myself are any good at baking actually. So we never even tried since mom died,” Stiles drifts off, lost in his bittersweet childhood memories for a moment. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it did a few years ago, but he guesses the ache never goes away completely. He wouldn’t want it to either way.

Shaking his head a little to clear it, Stiles turns to Derek who has already started to pull different packages from his stocking. “What’s in yours though?”

Stiles’ eyes widen when he sees Derek’s part of their next task. There’s flour, butter, raspberry jam and cream cheese and powdered sugar. “I think I know where this is going. Looks like we’re baking cookies,” Derek smiles.

“You know how to bake?” Again, the thought of Derek Hale, badass werewolf extraordinaire, standing in a kitchen and baking cookies doesn’t come too easily to Stiles. Derek looks a little sheepish as he shrugs with one shoulder. “I used to make Christmas cookies with my mom and Peter every year. Laura usually fled the house and Cora and dad hung out together watching movies, occasionally stealing cookie dough from the kitchen.”

“Peter, as in your uncle Peter? He made cookies?” Stiles is definitely unable to grasp the concept of Peter Hale being anything but a psycho, let alone a domestic cookie baker.

“Well,” Derek clarifies, “it was more him loitering around the kitchen, giving what he considered helpful advice. It was always fun though.”

“Good to know,” Stiles nods. “Should we get started then?”

A tiny poof of glitter exploding over his head has Stiles guess the answer is ‘yes’. Derek is still laughing at him ten minutes later.

 

Of course, whenever Stiles tries to not make a mess in the kitchen, it gets even more chaotic than usual. He has to measure the flour three times and Derek has him sift it two times more than necessary. They are having fun though, snarking back and forth between them until Stiles cannot resist booping Derek’s nose with a bit of cookie dough.

Derek just stares at him, completely baffled. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.” Stiles confirms, already walking backwards to get to a safe distance. Derek calmly reaches into the mixing bowl and grabs a bit of cookie dough, a predatory smirk on his lips, and then he lunges at Stiles, chasing him around the kitchen island. Stiles squawks when he eventually gets pinned to the counter, Derek holding both his wrists down with one hand and smearing cookie dough right over Stiles’ mouth. Stiles has to swallow at the closeness of them, acutely aware of Derek’s thighs pressing against his. Slowly he starts licking the sticky sweet dough off of his lips, Derek’s eyes tracking the movement. It feels like the air around them is charged, thick with tension waiting to be resolved and Stiles is about 82 % sure Derek is going to kiss him. He shuffles his feet around, trying to lean up against Derek’s hold of his wrists and then… then his fucking cell phone starts blaring “Nanananananananaaaa Batman” over on the coffee table, and Stiles doesn’t remember a single incident he wished to throttle Scott more.

“Fuck,” he curses as he stumbles towards the couch, knees still a little weak, and falls heavily onto it as he picks up the phone. “Heeeey Scotty, how’s it going?” He can hear laughter and murmuring in the background, so he imagines the whole pack huddled around the big table in Derek’s living room. And while he still curses their bad, bad timing, it kind of makes Stiles miss his friends.

“Yo, Stiles. Are you still in Colorado? Did the fairies do something? Have you and Derek killed each other yet?”

“Aw, I knew you guys cared,” he croons. ”It’s not too bad actually, we were just about to put a batch of cookies into the oven and Derek said something about making mulled cider. So, it’s bearable I guess.”

There’s a somewhat stunned silence at the other end of the line until he can hear Isaac whispering something about ‘tones’ or ‘bones’. He can’t really understand it, but Derek, who had fallen down on the sofa next to Stiles, bristles a little, so Isaac was probably being an ass again. Then Scott asks “Cookies? Cider? I’m getting a little worried here.”

“It’s what the fairies want. We have finish the tasks they set up for us in order to get out of here. It’s fine,” Derek chimes in and adds “ _Shut up_ , Isaac,” a second later, answering something out of Stiles’ hearing range.

Admittedly, Derek’s words sting. Despite being true for Stiles on a certain level, it kind of hurts to hear him say what pretty much comes down to only spending time with Stiles because he has to. Because the fairies make him do it. Otherwise Derek obviously wants to get out of here as quickly as possible, while Stiles… doesn’t. It makes him wonder if the moment between them sprung from his imagination alone.

“Stiles? Anything else you have to say?” Scott’s voice pulls him back out of his musings and Stiles is quick to put up a cheerful mask. “Nah, nothing more to say. We’ll call tomorrow in case we shouldn’t be back by then.”

 

As good as Stiles often might be at pretending, he doesn’t have it in him to go back to the way things were before the pack’s call. Derek keeps shooting him worried glances but Stiles distracts himself with putting dough into the oven and getting out the cookies when they’re done. It’s quiet between them, the atmosphere a little strained and when their work is finally done, Stiles can’t wait to head to bed early.

“Look man, I’m going to call it a day. Do you mind me taking the bedroom today? I don’t want to disturb your reading, and I just really want to go to sleep.”

“Did I… did I do something wrong, Stiles?” Derek sounds hesitant and Stiles immediately hates himself for the way Derek’s voice is small and hurt. “I know I almost… you seemed…” Stiles can see Derek clenching his fists, angry at himself to not get the words out. “I mean, if I made you uncomfortable back when we were baking, I’m sorry.”

Cursing inwardly Stiles slowly takes a few steps backs until he stands directly in front of Derek again. “No man, no. You didn’t do anything. Actually, you were great the whole time. It’s just… me being myself, I guess.” He gestures at himself a little helplessly.

“Okay,” Derek nods and then takes a deep breath and closes what little distance there is between them and gently grabs Stiles’ hand. “So you didn’t mind me almost kissing you? Because I thought that’s what was going to happen. Because that is what I wished for.”

Stiles mouth drops open at that, a little blindsided by Derek’s sudden bluntness before he can feel a smile spreading over his face. “I, no. I wouldn’t be opposed to that at all.”

“Good,” Derek whispers and then leans in to kiss the smile right off Stiles’ lips.

 

It’s much later, when they’re huddled close in front of the fireplace, sharing a blanket, that Derek asks him what Stiles wished for when he stood in front of the fairy door. He squirms a little because it seems so sappy now, but eventually he answers. “I wished I could spend more time with you. Just the two of us, you know. Doing research or whatever. You?”

Derek blushes at the question and Stiles’ knows the view will never ever get old. “I wished I could re-live some happy moments from the past with my favorite person,” he murmurs and Stiles just has to kiss him for that.

“I guess we both got our wishes then. Those fairies are pretty awesome.”

 

[Both of them could have lived without the cloud of glitter that transported them back to Beacon Hills the next morning though.]

 

FIN.


End file.
